In a rented house on the outskirts of a bustling metropolitan city, a middle-aged man lay exhausted on his bed, contemplating his next move. Should he return to his home country, or continue pursuing the dream project to which he had dedicated so much effort?
As he lay there, memories from the past crept in.
He recalled the day he walked into the towering headquarters of a company, clutching a neatly prepared file. Approaching the front desk, he asked politely, "Ma'am, has the director arrived yet?"
The receptionist glanced up and replied, "Oh, he left about an hour ago for a meeting."
Confused, the man furrowed his brow and looked at his watch. "But... wasn't the meeting scheduled for now? How could he have already left?"
The receptionist responded, "Oh... he told me there was a change in his schedule yesterday. Didn't you get the message?"
Hearing that, the man's expression darkened. "No," he said quietly.
Then, reaching into his coat pocket, he discreetly pulled out an envelope and placed it on the reception desk. In a low voice, he said, "Listen, ma'am… can you help me out with this?"
The receptionist glanced at the envelope and quickly slid it into her pocket without hesitation. She leaned forward slightly and whispered, "You can go to…"
Knock, knock, knock.
"Who is it? What's going on?" said a middle-aged man, half-dressed, his clothes scattered across the floor.
From behind the slightly opened door, a voice responded, "Boss, he's here…"
Realizing who it was, the man clicked his tongue and muttered, "Tch… annoying." He turned to the woman beside him and said, "You head out for a bit. Just a quick interruption—five minutes, tops." He kissed her before pulling on his shirt.
After breaking the kiss, the woman said, "Okay, honey... we'll continue later, alright?" As she walked out of the room, it remained a mess, with clothes scattered everywhere.
Not long after she left, another man entered and immediately said, "Director, this is a project that—" without paying much attention to the room's disarray.
But before he could finish his sentence, the director cut him off. "You have five minutes to explain... After that, I'll look at the documents later," he said with a cold gaze, as if viewing others as nothing more than insects.
Hearing those words, the middle-aged man sighed and replied, "Okay…" as he began presenting the information he had prepared.
Six minutes later, the director spoke up. "Alright, your five minutes are up. You can go."
The middle-aged man froze for a moment, clearly taken aback. Panicking, he stammered, "At least, five minutes…" Just as he was about to plead for "five more minutes" while handing over the proposal document he had prepared, the director's stern response cut off his words.
"No, and go away... your time is up," the director said firmly, his eyes fixed on his watch.
Hearing "go" for the second time, the man let out a deep sigh and, in resignation, muttered, "Okay," before turning to leave the room.
As he walked out, the director called out, "Don't forget to hand the documents to my assistant."
Hearing that, the man's expression sank, but he simply replied, "Yes, sir," and walked away.
After the man left, another individual in a lab coat entered through the back door and took a seat across from the director. A seductive woman followed close behind, immediately sitting beside the director and starting to kiss him.
Amid the kisses, the director said casually, "Take a look at the document. Is it useful?"
The man in the lab coat opened the file and examined it carefully. After a few minutes of silent analysis, he finally spoke, "Genius work… but unfortunately, he's an unstable variable."
When he heard that response, the director spoke casually, as if ordering coffee, "Just eliminate the guy. The document's proven accurate, isn't it?"
The man in the lab coat hesitated, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "But Director…"
Noticing the hesitation and uninterested in hearing excuses, the director cut him off. "Well, if you're having doubts, I'll take care of it myself." He reached down, picked up his fallen phone, and made a call without missing a beat.
The man in the lab coat replied, "Yes, sir." Once the call connected, the director leaned back and said coolly, "Hey… I've got a job for you."
The next day, as the man was about to arrange his schedule, he received a call from the receptionist he had spoken with the day before.
"Sorry, sir," she said, "but it seems the director felt your proposal was too heavy and has decided to reject it."
Upon hearing this, his face immediately drained of color. He replied, "Okay, ma'am. Thank you for letting me know."
After their brief exchange, the receptionist added, "Good luck, sir," before hanging up. He sat still for a moment, staring at the business card he had kept. The rejection stung, but he quickly regained his composure.
With a deep sigh, he stood up and made his way to the next company on his list. After meeting with the director and presenting his proposal, the director simply said, "Sorry, this is too much for us…"
Day after day passed, and by the 12th company, the director once again said, "Sorry, this amount... we can't take it."
Now, exhausted and defeated, he lay on his bed. His eyes drifted to the framed plaques hanging on the wall, each a reminder of past achievements but also of the uncertainty now clouding his future: a PhD in Aerospace Engineering and Physics, a PhD in Chemistry, and a PhD in Computer Science and Computer Engineering.
He still wanted to pursue his project, but limited funds made him reconsider everything. Maybe it was time to give up and go home.
An hour passed before he finally muttered, "I give up..." He picked up his phone and booked a plane ticket back to his country through an app.
In an intelligence office, a boss was sorting through his files when his phone rang. It was one of his subordinates.
He answered, "Yes..."
"Boss, he's leaving. He booked the plane ticket an hour ago."
"Who?"
"The 1337th project..."
The boss quickly searched his computer. Finding the relevant file, he smirked. "Oh... the unlucky slave. Delete everything—make sure there's no trace, no suspicion."
"Roger," the subordinate replied before ending the call.
The boss stared at the screen for a moment longer. "A smart one, but unlucky. If he gets loose, he'll be a threat... What a shame." Then he closed the file.
**At the Airport**
"Gate 8, Gate 8... Oh, here it is."
A female officer at the counter smiled. "Ticket, please."
"Here..."
She glanced at it. "B-20. Go to the right, sir."
"Okay, thanks..."
As he walked toward his seat, he accidentally bumped into someone. "Ah, sorry, sir," the man said.
"It's fine," he replied, unaware that in that brief contact, he had been injected with a nearly imperceptible anesthetic.
Five minutes later, he fell asleep.
Meanwhile, the man who had injected him walked toward the cockpit. Approaching the pilot, he simply said, "Sir, CIA." At the same time, ten other passengers exited the plane.
**One Hour Later**
He woke up to an eerie silence. The plane was still in flight, but the passengers were gone.
"You're awake..." a voice said.
The man who had spoken earlier emerged from the cockpit, wearing a parachute and holding a gun.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice shaky.
"CIA," the man answered.
He was still confused. "So..."
The agent continued, "At 15:00, you booked a flight ticket home. The moment you did that, you became a threat to us. You understand, right?"
His face paled. "But... I just wanted to go home..."
"That's not my problem." The agent walked to the door and pulled it open, the wind roaring through the cabin.
"Good luck. Have a nice flight." With those final words, he jumped from the plane.
The man sat frozen, processing what had just happened. Then, realization dawned on him, and he whispered, "Damn... I was betrayed..." Those were his last words before everything went dark.